TwoFaced
by Immortalis
Summary: Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, Hellsing find themselves unwillingly paired and competing against their adversary, Iscariot...and soon face-to-face with their personal Judas.
1. Chapter 1

**Hellsing—**Two-Faced

**Disclaimer—**I have no legal rights to Hellsing.

**Synopsis—**Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, Hellsing find themselves unwillingly paired with and competing against their adversary, Iscariot...and soon face-to-face with their personal Judas.

**Chapter Title**—New Beginning

**Rating—**PG-13 to R, for crude language, sexual conduct and of course, violence.

**Author's Notes—**Like always, this story originated from a dream of mine, which of course are awesome and beyond words. Anyways, when referring to Hellsing's Judas I am of courses peaking about the amine, order 13 Hellfire when Sir Integra is arrested after the tragic and bloody struggle with Incognito at the Tower of London. Near the end, it said that the betrayer was never discovered, so I thought I would solve the riddle myself—of course with some assistance from creative liberties and access to . This really isn't a sequel to Bloodlust; instead, I try to write my stories in such a way so anyone can read them in any order. When I finished Bloodlust I posted 5 stories for my readers to choose from and basically there was a three-way tie and this story was among them. So I am posting this and The Dying Rose at the same time, so please be patient with me and my updates. In between whenever I have a rough spot I might throw in some one shots.

Remember this sign—"**O**"—means there's a footnote at the end of the chapter.

Ta,

Immortalis

OOONew Beginning 

--London, England

--Buckingham Palace

--6:25am

**OOO**

A hard voice interrupted, silencing the voice with a cool and hard tone, Gentleman, I have had _enough_ of this prattle."

All eyes, including that of Stephen Rhoades **O** were focused entirely on the woman dressed in a finely cut black suit with a blood-red ascot tied tightly around her neck. Two sapphire-stone eyes shinned brightly and with about as much warmth as her voice, "I feel somewhat incline to remind you the reason of _our _existence—for the sole purpose of erasing all satanic and supernatural threats against the church and crown. That is the function, _sirs._" That Lady paused, exhaling a sign as she tired to clam her boiling nerves and erase all murderous thoughts from her mind. "My jurisdiction lies solely in _Britannia_.**O**"

"But Sir Integra you must consider—" a Protestant Knight protested.

Dressed like Walter C. Dornez, who stood on the opposite side next to the Hellsing Director—with a starched white-collar shirt, black suit and tie, hands clasped behind his back, Rhoades chastised the man to himself, _You don't know when to cry stop to your tongue, fool. No doubt your tongue shall be the death of you._

While he was a Blood-Concubine, Rhoades self-discovered a tool that played a vital role in his survival…that while his blood and body belonged to the Midians of The Covenant Court—his mind did not. His thoughts were solely his own. Eyes averted downwards in the typical submissive pose of a Blood-Concubine, Rhoades knew that freedom had a price and like life could easily be stripped away, but inside his mind he could block out the pain, craft the most hideous deaths of his captors and insult them. Now required by his newest Master, and a human nonetheless, Rhoades accompanied her to Buckingham Palace for an immediate and urgent conference with the remaining Protestant Knights. Things at the Hellsing Manor had been rough at his arrival, and after all who could blame them? Being welcomed into the Hellsing organization was a long and laborious activity—stripped-searched, probed, interrogated for hours and then at last, brought to Sir Hellsing who said "Welcome to Hellsing, young Mr. Rhoades."

It was a new beginning.

Despite their first thoughts, Rhoades had no traitorous agenda against the Hellsing Organization when he revealed himself to its Mistress and her trump card, the Nosferatu Alucard. Fifteen years under the will and whim of The Covenant, he wanted nothing else than glorious vengeance and when he witnessed Sir Integra in all her splendor and majestic respect, he swore she was an angel. _His angel_. A sign sent from whatever entity to guide him against his previous owners and save a friend of his **O**.

Rhoades, regardless of what Alucard said, was _not_ a secret admirer of Sir Integra Hellsing—he merely wanted to serve against the supernatural spites that plagued the world, especially against forms from The Covenant. He promised, "_At your humble and eager service, Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. I am yours to do as you will_…"

Like with any of his Masters, he would be her vessel to do as she pleased.

Recently employed by the Hellsing Organization, Rhoades had learned very much about his Master and even in 2 days he knew, just knew that she had enough of this endless farce 15 minutes ago. The Royal Order conference was beginning to look a like a complete, utter waste of her time and effort. There was only one perk in being a Blood-Concubine of The Covenant, he was a proficient observer, and better than a behavioral-psychologist.

With one sharp movement she raised her gloved hand and silenced the man's blubbering nonsense. Closing her eyes, she exhaled and desperately tried to ignore the throbbing pain that only intensified with each passing pulse. _Perfect, an approaching migraine—_but Rhoades, lucky for him had a full bottle of aspirin in his left jacket pocket.

Sweat glistering on his forehead from the heated debate, Sir Eglamour Wood raised up his hands as a gesture of peace and said in a calm voice, "There is no need to be hostile, Madame—we have no conscious intention to be insulting towards the Hellsing Organization. Instead", he paused, "Britannia is indebted to you and your family." _Again, another blabbering idiot_.

"Funny, _I am the one_ who feels _enslaved_," Integra noted stiffly.

A verse from the Black Veil popped in his head, "_Whom I am indebted is whom I serve" _**O **—somehow, it seemed appropriate given the new circumstance.

While the innocent masses had been seemingly unaware of the Hellsing Organization, expect for the monthly article in the tabloid _Sun Cornier_ and the name in Bram Stoker's Dracula—but no one would, or much less could, believe the ramblings of a newspaper that boast the existence of aliens, Loch-Ness and werewolves, or of the fictional writing of an Irishman. Such evidence would prove to be tangible, but recently was growing ever persistent, annoying and surprisingly, better. Not that it would even matter, since every shred of possible support had been and would always be seized by MI5 and Media Management. Rhoades understood that the Hellsing-Daughter could handle them but it was this _new change_ and this demand that would boil her blood.

Integra whipped out a thin cigar and Rhoades jumped forward lighting for her, and once done returned to his spot. _Those things are going to kill her. _She took a calculated puff from her smoldering cigar and whispered as wisps of smoked danced from her lips, "After listening to the Royal Order, the reason for my doubt and disagreement is quite simple—I will not send my men on a wild goose chase, especially in a foreign land, who's dilemma is not my own." 

Rhoades watched silently as the Royal Order of Protestant Knights jumped to their feet and voiced their complaints. He wondered how anything ever got done in England, especially with the obstruction known as pride and politics standing in the way. _Pride and politics_, he thought, _it really isn't different than The Covenant_.

Sir Islands stopped the debate with a cool and smooth tone, "Enough, we can conduct a civil debate—after we are _English_." Small, sensitive laughter erupted among the Royal Order at this remark but quickly settled into looming silence. 

Dropping his head Sir Islands replied grimly, "This peace from Millennium, I fear is the calm _before_ the storm…and you must, _Sir Hellsing _take that into account."

"You mistake me, sirs if you believe I do not fear that as well. Therefore," she added sternly, "that is why the focal point of the Hellsing Organization would be focus ever more so on that target. Millennium is my concern."

"_Please_," McKellen pleaded, "do not make this a personal vendetta."

_Hell hath known no fury of that of a woman's scorn_, Rhoades mused, _especially that of the Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing_—but she knew the line between blinded vengeance and civic duty, even if she was flirting dangerously close on the border.

"Please, let us focus at the facts and not assumptions without evidence, _even_ if they are with probable cause." He paused giving each member a deliberate look and then continued, "Shall we review the circumstance at hand?"

Eyes looking at the marble floor, Rhoades shook his head, _You are only rubbing salt in the wound. Adding gasoline to the raging fire. _

"Since Japan was part of the Axis Powers during the second World War…Umanosuke Tsuruoka and Norihiko Gahosha, who head up the Department of Paranormal Research and Development—like us," he emphasized, "have found themselves forced into this game with Millennium. Their situation is not unlike ours, and the only difference is that we separated only by geological features."

Integra Hellsing fired back, "England has enough problems to keep us occupied, therefore we cannot expunge our resources elsewhere."

"_Cannot or will not_?" challenged Lord Lexmark, a man with a fox-eyes and a disposition, which only was a thorn in her side.

Rhoades knew that if he weren't the Duchess's favorite and most influential nephew in Parliament, Sir Integra would gladly throttle him personally. Hearing second-hand from Walter, at the annual Foxhunt match in Richmond, Lord Lexmark had repeatedly made sexual advancements towards her, which she dismissed first with some firm words, and then later now, an even firmer knee in the groin. From then, things only got worse. After she crushed him in poker, the man made a degrading remark that Sir Integra Hellsing should find her womanly place in a man's bed, and better yet, on her knees. Of course, in public he behaved like the perfect Englishman who stepped out of Jane Austen romantic novels; however, reality was less than glamorous. _As always, the lie is more alluring than the truth_, he thought.

For some odd reason, he reminded her of Enrico Maxwell, which of course, only intensified her dislike of him, even more.

Continuing Lord Lexmark smiled kindly, "I just wonder if you are _reluctant _in performing your civic duty as the Director of Hellsing or even as an English_woman_—for Queen and country."

"_Reluctant_ is hardly the word, _sir_," she replied purposely dropping his formal title of Lord. "_Calculating_, would be more appropriate. Unlike you and remaining members of this committee, I am merely looking at all of my cards before taking a drastic action."

Sir Island cleared his throat and said carefully, "Did I mention that I_scariot_ has been called as well?"

Rhoades raised his eyes at the sound of the name—_Iscariot_.

Integra's eyes snapped up and she breathed, "No. You seemed to have failed to mention that, _sir_. Section XIII of Iscariot, you say?

"_Of course_," came that odious Italian voice.

_As if things could get any worse_, Rhoades groaned.

Standing at the entrance was none other than the Archbishop himself, Enrico Orlando Maxwell.

OOO

TBC

OOO

There it is, chapter 1 for Two-Faced. At first I had no intentions of having Rhoades' point-of-view and although he is not a original character of the Hellsing-universe, I thought he should a have a bit more in the story than just someone who tags along. Yes, he does become a liaison between the Hellsing Organization and The Covenant. As I said in Bloodlust he will NOT be a main character or a Mary-Sue, instead, he pops up once in awhile. Little here, and a little there. As you can tell, he likes personally verbalizes his thoughts—because it true, your thoughts are yours and the mind is a fantastic instrument. I remember, whenever my parents were "trying" to teach me a valuable lesson I would just pretend like I was listening, but inside my head I was not even there. I was somewhere else completely. Perhaps, I am not proficient as Rhoades, because their words seemed to get through to me.

Nest chapter—A Wager

Footnotes:

_Stephen Rhoades_ **O**—Yes, he is the young man from the Blood-Bar, who is just as vengeful if not more against the vampires than Sir Integra Hellsing. However, this may be the element to his downfall. He will have a much bigger part in The Dying Rose, as his true intention spring to life. Before anyone asks, he is _not_ the Judas. Nor does he or will have any traitorous thoughts against Hellsing. When I think about, he has a sad story.

_Britannia_.**O**—Old name for the island of Great Britain.

_A sign sent from whatever entity to guide him against his previous owners and save a friend of his_ **O**—If you read Bloodlust than you have already meet his friend, Yvette—the Blind Seer, who like Rhoades will have a bigger role in The Dying Rose. She also has a sad story. 

"_Whom I am indebted is whom I serve" _**O**—Actually, I believe this is a line from the Holy Bible.


	2. A Wager

**Hellsing—**Two-Faced

**Disclaimer—**I have no legal rights to Hellsing.

**Story Synopsis—**Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, Hellsing find themselves unwillingly paired with their adversary, Iscariot...and soon face-to-face with their personal Judas.

**Chapter Synopsis**-- Nothing like competition to instill bitterness, right?

**Chapter Title**—A Wager

**Rating—**PG-13 to R, for crude language, sexual conduct and of course, violence.

**Author's Notes—**Like always, this story originated from a dream of mine, which of course are awesome and beyond words. Anyways, when referring to Hellsing's Judas I am of courses peaking about the amine, order 13 Hellfire when Sir Integra is arrested after the tragic and bloody struggle with Incognito at the Tower of London. Near the end, it said that the betrayer was never discovered, so I thought I would solve the riddle myself—of course with some assistance from creative liberties and access to . This really isn't a sequel to Bloodlust; instead, I try to write my stories in such a way so anyone can read them in any order.

So, please read and review.

Ta,

Immortalis

OOOA Wager 

**OOO**

_Sir Island cleared his throat and said carefully, "Did I mention that Iscariot has been called as well?"_

_Rhoades raised his eyes at the sound of the name—Iscariot. _

_Integra's eyes snapped up and she breathed, "No. You seemed to have failed to mention that, sir. Section XIII of Iscariot, you say? _

_"Of course," came that odious Italian voice._

_As if things could get any worse, Rhoades groaned._

Standing at the entrance was none other than the Archbishop himself, Enrico Orlando Maxwell, followed by several agents of Iscariot dressed in their black robes, priestly collars and golden crucifixes dancing brightly against the fluorescent lights. As his comrades flanked his side, the Director of Iscariot feeling a swell of pride and of power, bowed his head and a sly grin played on his waxy pale features. _Bitter enemies trapped in the same boat_, Maxwell mused. It seemed that the possibility of waiting for Millennium and the Hellsing Organization to deal with each other until they are ready to fall into their grave, was no longer an option. _Pity though_. The Holy Bible said to be patient, and he would buy his time, minute by minute. Hell, if he had it his non-disputed way—he would have obliterated the Royal Order, set blaze the Hellsing Manor, staked that abomination Alucard and then when all was said and done, personally throttle that protestant whore, Sir Integra Hellsing after indulging himself in her. _Wonderful, another impure thought to add to my collection. _

Shaking his head clear of sinful thoughts he fingered his rosary, clicking the beads together and after crossing himself Maxwell said with a silky voice, "I do implore your forgiveness, I do believe we are late."

"No apology needed Archbishop, the Royal order is thrilled that you accepted the invitation," Sir Penwood said with his voice dripping in honey.

"Not at all."

"Iscariot of course, is most welcomed," another replied.

Crossing her arms Sir Integra noted with measured distained, "Spare me the charade gentlemen, you are making me ill."

_Woke up on the wrong side to bed, didn't we? _He found himself wondering what Integra even wore to bed. Would she wear cotton pajamas, silky laces undergarments or perhaps nothing at all? _Damnation_, he thought, _why do I even care? _After this, he would have to make a private visit to the confessional box. Maxwell blinked, surprised at the statement but he covered it well with a smile and said, "Miss Hellsing, you should happy that we, our Organizations are mending the gap. Healing old wounds, as it were."

"Not likely." She smirked doubtfully. "And there is no _we_ in this equation

Frankly Maxwell would rather add other items into the equation—being a lacy negligee, liquid latex, chains and shackles. No doubt, she already had those items. A woman in her position had to have some sort of diversion, even if she was the _Virgin_ Protestant Knight. Maxwell most certainty did. The Archbishop was born a bastard, a son of a Mistress and since the early beginnings of his tragic and lonely childhood he was a power-hungry animal with exquisite and very fine tastes—one rumored was Sir Integra Hellsing herself. If she knew or even suspected, Integra gave no inclination.

A few paces behind the vile man was the Paladin, Alexander Anderson and his olive-green eyes were scouting every exposed inch of the chamber and even the shadows, most likely searching for that abomination, the vampire Alucard. The two trump cards had a perfect knack for choosing fights in the most inappropriate circumstances.

"So where's your personal pet, Miss Integra?" Anderson leered in a low whisper."

"_Around_," Integra answered with a degree of malice towards Maxwell. "He is never stays far, so I highly suggest that you refrain from any squealing English sows comments, eh?"

Rhoades sorted a laugh rather loudly and then quickly disguised it as a cough. "Pardon me…"

Afterwards, Walter exchanged a look of disapproval with him.

Beats of silence followed.

Integra smirked doubtfully and spoke loud enough for the entire Royal order to hear, "Honestly, don't be daft. I am quite confident that once this war is done and _if_ we happen to survive, Iscariot will show their _true_ colors."

Sir Islands protested, "There is no need to be hostile, Sir Hellsing"

"Very true, after all we all are in this for the long run. To the bitter end."

Maxwell could tell that those words would do nothing to calm her boiling temper, but only increase the temperature.

Half tempted to roll her eyes, she chose a fine cigar from the tin box, placed it in her mouth and with a sharp flick of her wrist, lit it aflame. Dark wisps of smoke rose from her lips as she continued harshly, "Please gentleman, I am tired of this pretense. Being two-faced **O** is an utter waste of my time. Shall we remove the masks?"

"We all wear masks, Sir Integra," Lord Lexmark noted. "Even you."

"Not to the point of being nauseating," she said with a grinning smile. 

"That is enough," Sir Islands demanded gentle but firmly. "Very well, shall we continue and furthermore finish this discussion?"

Nodding her pale blond hair, Integra inhaled another puff of tobacco and said, "Fair enough, gentleman." She raised her eyes to look at the smug looking Archbishop. "I trust—or at least hope that Iscariot is informed of the situation," she paused added with acid, "so we don't have _review_ the items at hands, _again_. At this rate, Millennium will be knocking down the gate to Buckingham Palace."

Maxwell smiled kindly but inside his dark mind, murderous thoughts were running rampant. "Well aware, I must add. I have spoken to Umanosuke Tsuruoka and Norihiko Gahosha, so I am quite intimate with their situation."

With a smug grin Integra said, "Fine with me, than Iscariot…being so intimate with them, should go to Japan."

"No. They are requesting both of you."

"Why both of us?" she demanded.

"Like you, Umanosuke Tsuruoka and Norihiko Gahosha want to look at all their cards before making a decision. They want to see between Iscariot and the Hellsing Organization, which is the better most suitable colleague. In other words, it's a wager," explained Sir Islands.

"Even though _supposedly_ we are on the same side, right?"

"No need to be hostile, Miss Integra," he said sweetly. Maxwell strolled closer stood beside her, looking down at her with that leering grin and no doubt, like any man he enjoyed that position—looking down at her. Looking up at the remaining members of the Royal Order and replied in a kingly voice, "Iscariot is willingly to offer its services wherever it is needed. Besides, if Millennium is not busy killing us, than they are recruiting, and to survive this, we must do the same." He paused before adding with his word aimed specifically at her, "And you must, Miss Integra take that into account."

"Surely there is no fault in greater numbers," Sir Penwood stammered, hoping to lead a half-wise and half-helpful remark, and perhaps proof of his position.

"Or a in greater chance of _betrayal_," Integra defiantly fired back.

"Yes, I imagine you have had your share of betrayal," he alluded to the Tower of London incident. _Boy, do I live for that look_.

"Yes," she hissed rising to her feet. "And I have no wish to repeat it. Next time may end in my untimely demise, _Archbishop_."

"If it is any consultation, I would never," counterattacked Maxwell as if the statement had been directed towards him. "Iscariot would never. Although things are been dancing on the edge of a knife between us, we would not wish you dead. Given your position, you have more value alive than dead and buried 6 feet under."

Integra closed her eyes as if the word physically pained her. "Somehow I _seriously_ doubt that."

"Excuse me," squeaked the voice of Sir Collins. "Hate to interrupted your conflict but there is something yet, that concerns me.  Millennium is dangerous yes, but what of about The Covenant?"

For the first time Sir Integra smiled and taking in deep breath of ashy cigar smoke replied, "True enough. Luckily, the Hellsing Organization has already required an expert _of_ and furthermore _from_ The Covenant."

Murmurs rose form the room like rising waves from an approaching tide.

"Really?" Maxwell asked with a degree of surprise. "Perhaps the latest addition to your undead-collection. So who might the demon be?"

"Aye," agreed Anderson whose bayonet blades were sharp as his resolve to drive all un-human species, especially vampires into extinction—and hence into the pages of history, then into legend and myth, and at last, forgotten.

Rhoades stepped forward, feeling his heavy heart quicken its pace and declared with his eyes still on the floor, "That would be me."

"You must be jesting," Lord Lexmark protested. "The boy is practically a child."

"A human," breathed the Paladin, who naturally like his superior expected a Midian. 

"Mr. Rhoades," Sir Integra said evenly, "You are no longer under The Covenant, so you _may_ raise your eyes."

With Sir Integra snapping her fingers, the Butler ambled beside the latest addition of the Hellsing Organization, who in strange way had adopted the young man as if he was his own son. Walter reached out and grasped his chin, and gently forced it upwards so his green-blue eyes would rise off the ground and out towards the Royal Order and Iscariot. When he looked at those watching him, Rhoades flinched unconsciously as it he was waiting for a physical blow but of course, none came—only the approved smile from his newest Master, Sir Integra Hellsing.

"What is this nonsense, Miss Integra?" Sir Island demanded

Rhoades replied in a monotone tone as if he was quoting scripture for the thousandth time, "_A Blood Concubine never averts its eyes higher than a Midian's chest and upon its Master, never higher than the knees_. **O**"

"A verse from the Black Veil **O**," Anderson growled.

Integra explained, "Rhoades is my insurance if The Covenant suddenly decides to present themselves in any undesirable way. Unofficially, he is an expert—having been raised at their presence and being in the company of all their members, especially those at court. He knows all there is to know, at least as a human."

Sir Penwood stammered, "What about—about your pet?"

"Alucard?" Integra asked. "Not enough sufficient and updated information."

Maxwell leered, "Did you try persuasion?"

"Not that it would matter. He has been out of the Covenant Court for more than a hundred and fifty years."

A member asked, "But would The Covenant even do anything?'

"They are _vampires_," Rhoades hissed. "Humans are nothing more than cattle. Expendable hosts to satisfy their thirst. Regardless man has claimed ownership over the earth, which is a great insult to them—seeing how they call themselves the "True Rulers of the Earth." Today, all otherworldly beings are considered entities of myth and superstition. What a terrible fall from grace. The Covenant keeps to traditions that are well older than the existence of man. As you can imagine, they do not welcome change with a friendly eye—_but_ this war is most welcomed "

"Why?" Maxwell wondered out loud.

"A perfect chance to claim what was lost."

Sir Penwood leaned closer to Integra and whispered, "How do we know, he won't betray you."

Narrowing his eyes at the crude man, Rhoades ambled forward with his hands quickly peeling off his ascot and unbuttoning his vest and white crisp shirt. Exposing his chest, the remaining members of the Royal Order of Protestant Knights and Iscariot gasped at the unholy and unsettling sight of heavily aged and repeated scars, which served to remind him of his slavery to The Covenant. "As if I would ever want to return to _them_." His eyes looked otherwise dead as he finished, "I have more reason to hate them than any of you combined."

"Perhaps that would prove to be evidence enough, gentleman," Integra answered. Standing to her feet she exhaled a tiring sigh and said reluctantly, "To fulfill my duty, I shall go Japan to entertain Umanosuke Tsuruoka and Norihiko Gahosha along Iscariot—after all, Millennium is my concern…Saying that, I imagine that we are finished here."

**OOO**

**Competition**

**OOO**

"What a bloody waste! Nothing more useless than politics," the Ice-Queen hissed out of her teeth. "Incompetent fools. I hate playing with idiots." Smoking on the last bit of her cigar, Integra Hellsing proceeded to make the long journey home and impatiently jabbed at the "Up" button at the elevator, hoping to ascend from his Conference-Hell. High above them came the groaning and metal grinding sounds of the approaching box. It is ironic that whenever you eagerly waiting for something—say an elevator, it seems to take even longer than if you are casually waiting for it. Same thing with a watched pot never boils. Simply ridiculous. Eyes looking up, looking for the elevator through the wall Integra noted pleasantly, given her mood, "You did well, Rhoades."

The young man finished adjusting his clothes and his under his breath, "Thank you, Master."

"So…a trip to Japan. How lovely," she said with her tone anything but enthusiastic.

Rhoades tied the last knot and mumbled softly, "It is lovely in the spring. Quite passive."

"Been there with The Covenant?"

"Years ago. Juliet Rose **O** found it most appealing," he plainly said, and wished to speak of it no more.

The elevator announced it arrival—"Ding," and the door opened, looking very inviting. The Hellsing-Director along with the latest addition to their club house entered and just as the door were beginning to close, a hand lashed out—it was none other than that odious man, Maxwell. "Might I help you, Archbishop?" Which of course, was another way of saying "go-away."

The Archbishop fingered his priestly collar and leered, "I was just wondering…"

Integra was not impressed. "How intriguing. I suppose I am to ask you—whatever has you wondering?"

"Just what is on everyone's minds, especially from Umanosuke Tsuruoka and Norihiko Gahosha. In fact, the odds are impressively _against_ you." Enrico Maxwell leaned against the elevator door and mused, "Wondering rather or not you can control yourself…especially your pets, and not permit this vendetta to become intimate. Pride is a sin, you know."

"Your presence is beginning to bore me, Maxwell," Integra hissed. 

Suddenly there was rumbling laughter that seemed to come from everywhere and yet, its original origins were nowhere to be found and exploited from the back of the elevator the shadows lifted and a figure dressed in black and red emerged with a Cheshire cat smile in place. A demon fit enough from the pits of hell. It was none other than the Nosferatu Alucard, the No-Life King—who like his Covenant comrades had fallen fall from grace, in being enslaved by a human, and a woman nonetheless to add salt to the wound. However, judging the sultry looks he was giving her, it seemed that Alucard had no complaints.

"A wager you say Maxwell? Well…nothing like competition to instill bitterness, eh?" he asked, leaping outwards with a snap of his fangs.

He jumped back just as the elevator doors slammed shut in his face, inches from trapping his Italian nose in their grasp.

**OOO**

TBC

**OOO**

There it is Chapter 2 for "Two-Faced," and I just had to get Alucard in here, even if it was just for a moment. Next chapter—**Prepare for the Worst**.

Author's Notes:

_Two-faced_ **O—**As you can guess, this is the origin of the title. People, meaning everyone wears masks for difference occasions, such as with friends, family and currently with the next presidential election, and politicians are no different. However, it is difficult to be loyal to two Masters.

"_A Blood Concubine never averts its eyes higher than a Midian's chest and upon its Master, never higher than the knees_. **O**"**—**You know, eyes are windows to the soul. So, I had this idea about slaves being prohibit to look that those who are higher than them.

_Black Veil_ **O—**Something similar to the Holy Bible to Christians, but only to vampires.

_Juliet Rose_ **O—**Got the name from A Field Guide to the Creature that Stalk the Night: Vampires book, which is awesome. Juliet Rose was the oldest daughter of William G. Rose who became the pillar of the south County community. Juliet was a kind, mild-mannered young woman. Her father was a hard, silent man but the iron exterior fell with the death of daughter to mysterious elements. The he was nearly beside himself with grief when she fell under a strange sickness. Soon he was convinced that supernatural forces were working this home and family. Soon, there was a vampire-curse against the Rose-Family. Thinking about the blasphemy of disturbing her fresh grave, a figure seemed to drift in with the mist—it was his own daughter. She said, "Papa! It is so cold. I can't get any warmth." He wanted to embrace her, but couldn't. In the end, William had no choice but to kill his daughter.

However for this story—her father did not kill, but rather she escaped, fleeing to the welcomed arms of The Covenant. Despite being a vampire, Juliet managed to keep her sweet innocence and took Rhoades as a temporary Blood-Concubine and a one-side lover.

Ta,

Immortalis


	3. Prepare for the Worst

**Hellsing**—Two-Faced

**Disclaimer**—Trust me if I actually owned Hellsing, Alucard would be chained up in my basement, dripping in chocolate and naturally, like any avid fangirl, I would be enjoying it every much. 

**Story Synopsis**—Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, Hellsing find themselves unwillingly paired with their adversary, Iscariot...and soon face-to-face with their personal Judas.

**Rating**--PG-13 to R, for crude language, sexual conduct and of course, violence.

**Chapter Title**—Prepare for the Worst

**Chapter Synopsis**—Preparing for the trip to Japan, the Hellsing Organization organizes their forces and strategies, and their luggage. 

**Author's Notes**—I think this chapter was designed more as a comic relief than anything else--nevertheless it was fun. It isn't completely worthless, since there are some hints to the coming events and what not.

So, please READ and of course, REVIEW

Ta,

Immortalis

OOO That Green-Eyed Monster, Jealousy OOO

Despite popular opinion—especially those from the Wild Geese and Big Red or more formally known as Lord Alucard, Captain Pip Bernadette was not, and absolutely NOT jealous. He might have been French by blood and deed, but jealous was not in the equation. Perhaps being protective and resentful were better choice of words—but not jealous. So what, if Police-Girl was paying a bit more attention towards the newest member of the Hellsing Organization, the quiet and slick Stephen Rhoades than him? _Big flipping deal_, he thought as he took in another drag of smoke. Any man would take offense—that was just nature. Or as his granddaddy said, "_God designed men to stow his seed where he may, however he programmed women to limit the crop to one farmer_." **O** Then again, the old man wasn't the most rational person.

Killing the cancerstick in a nearby ashtray, Pip wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned indiscreetly, _Mmm, what a night_. Of course, the average person couldn't openly express that he was killing ghouls at 3am, and within the chaos and mayhem, trying to maintain a romantic relationship with his girlfriend, who was fledging vampire and growing bold with her ravenous new appetites. It was not all bad and certainly could have been worse. Perhaps there was an easier explanation, the Captain had too much on his plate to chew. However, like at a buffet table, Pip had no desire to put back anything, because it would look trashy and besides, would be taking another trip to no doubt, pick up the left behind item. He could not and would not—Seras Victoria was a good sweet girl, who always had a smile, even for complete strangers and even those who liked her less.

Still, he was _not_ jealous.

Seras Victoria had sympathy for poor Rhoades, and nothing more, "I want to sparkle those dead eyes." True, his grayish orbs seemed to hold nothing, just the battered and better-forgotten nightmares under The Covenant's hand and fang, and his body bore testimony to that. Plus, "To have him smile, even just once," she said hopefully and with adorable determination. The young man hardly smiled and whenever he attempted to do so, it was reluctant and forged. So, there was a reasonable motive for such extra attention, which was innocent enough.

Besides Rhoades was NOT watching the Police-Girl trying on bathing suits, modeling them for him alone, and requiring which one looked best and most agreeable with her figure. It wasn't Rhoades, but him—Captain Pip Bernadette, and that notion made him beam.

Of course, _shopping_ was exactly not in this blood, but Seras was simply animated about the business trip to Japan, and her positive aura counterbalanced the cool, very pissed-off manner of the Mistress of the Hellsing Manor. Now, they were at the Mosby-King shopping center, and more importantly inside a store called "Bibs and Bikinis." It was a "woman's store, and certainly designed to indulge the pleasures and necessaries of the feminine sex. It was hippy-cute with the frog-puke fuzzy carpet, rotating mirrors, painted smiley-faces and half naked manikins, dressed in the latest swimwear, negligees, panties and bras. Pip felt like a kid in a candy shop, and wanted to look around tasting the sample—but he had a duty first.

Indulge his lady.

It was work first and play later—and _shopping_ was work.

Sitting down in a comfy chair he called out, "Come on baby-girl, I want to see it."

Peeking out from the dressing-room curtain, Seras Victoria quirked playfully, "I bet you do…but I am having the toughest time with this one."

"I could always help you," Pip offered with a sloppy grin and rose from his chair.

Pointing a finger at him she said firmly, "No."

"You are fusing around," he accused. Glimpsing at his watch Pip noted, "We have less than a hour to get back to the Manor, which I add takes quite some time." Basically the Captain like any other man forced to tag along for 'shopping,' was trying to speed things up, in order to go home and furthermore stay home.

"Oh please," she said. "We have _plenty_ of time."

"Hardly," he whispered to himself.

"You know, given my _condition_" –that's what she referred her vampire status as—"it is not the hottest nor the smartest idea to say or even think things out loud. I can hear you." Seras Victoria forced her head out and stated plainly as day, "Besides will you stop pestering about the time. We will make the time, we always do. Haven't you ever heard the expression—'patience is a virtue?"

"Not really—it is just that we were given a specific amount of time, and if I violate it, Sir Integra will have my tent-maker in clampers."

Suddenly Seras Victoria stepped out from behind the dressing drape and witnessing her, Pip felt his mouth dropped to the floor with a loud, distinctive thud. It was leopard print that barely covered her nipples, enough to be modest at the bare minimum. She turned around, displaying and modeling to the best of her ability the swimsuit and herself. The Police-Girl looked good in just about everything—the bright yellow Hellsing uniform with the white thigh-length stockings and short shirt, jeans, and especially lacy items. God, she was a goddess in lace. "Well," she demanded quickly, "what do you think?"

"I like it." Pip could not stop grinning like a drunken idiot, though he was perfectly, perfectly sober. "Look at you, dirty little fox," he teased, "Not bad. Not bad at all. Breaking my balls."

A passing customer, who was rambling through the racks, scolded harshly, "Language, you are in public."

_Ah, I hate London. Too civilized. Too traditional._

"It's okay, I think," she said, looking at herself in the mirror like any other woman who was uncertain and uncomfortable in her own skin.

"It is fine. You are _fine_," Pip said a little harsh.

"For a 'lady's man,' you have a lot to learn about women," she chastised. "Like patience."

Pip smiled like a fox. "I know what I need to know." He added, "Besides I am no longer a womanizer, since there's only one lady who is the mistress of my passion."

"Than you should fall to your knees at my every will and whim, right?"

_Damn_, he cursed. "Okay you got me. It 's just that…well Seras love, I have to ask, and," Pip continued reluctantly," why are you shopping for a swimsuit, you already have one? It just seems like a total waste of time."

Seras answered sweetly, "I need a new one. Anyways, this isn't just like any trip. Because we are going to Japan, silly."

Pip reminded, "It's a _business_ trip. Or more like a mojo competition between Sir Integra and that Archbishop Asshole Maxwell."

"I think I still like the pink one," she said completely ignoring the last comment, as if to make a point to do so. Holding up a pink two-pieced and a baby-blue strip swimsuit, Seras peered at herself at the mirror, and although vampires do not have reflections, or at least according to the literature—Seras Victoria had not earned that, because as her Master Alucard loved to boast she was-not-yet a full Nosferatu but a childe, a baby. Unlike her sire, she still had her humanity. "It may be a business trip, but that doesn't necessary mean we can't enjoy ourselves. Aren't we going to enjoy ourselves, Pippy?"

_I love it and hate it when she calls me that_, Pip mused.

"Think about it…just picture it, beautiful, exciting and romantic. A wondrous and perfect excuse for being alone with each other." Pretty eyelashes fluttered at him, innocently. Seras stopped, her smile impish—being meek, playful, goading him now on the brink of temptation and excitement. "The moon glistering on the water, the white benches…soft gentle breeze caressing…white benches gleaming like endless diamonds—" then she toss an onion in the soup—"And Rhoades said that they have the most beautiful beaches in the world. Did you know, that sometimes the sand is so fine that if you step on them, it makes musical sounds?"

_Rhoades, again._

"Besides," Seas added returned back into an authoritative tone that was most becoming, "It won't be business 24/7."

"It won't be business and certainty not a vacation." Fingering his eye patch he noted nonchalantly, "Try telling that to you-know-who." Recently it had become a habit to refer "The Boss" or more importantly the Director of Hellsing and the owner of the checkbook, as you-know-who. It was much safer not to say her name.

Seras turned to him. "What, you mean Sir Integra?"

After that comment, everything got very quiet and like an old proverb said, sometimes silence is more telling than words.

"Sometimes," she paused with her hands on her hips, "I think she is incapable of being happy." Seras disappeared back into the dressing room to change into something much for appropriate. "It's almost as if she…" the fledging paused as if trying to summon the right words, or better yet the courage to say what lurked in her brain, "almost as if she is a masochist, you know. Like she takes pleasure punishing herself. Her life could be so much better, if she just took the time to stop and look at it."

"Sort of like Rhoades," Pip tested her.

"Don't say that," she whispered sadly, peeking her head out of the dressing room.

_Merde_, he thought, _I really shouldn't have. That was so stupid_. Then at that moment, Captain Pip Bernadette knew that he was jealous and that damnable green-eyed monster consumed him with nothing but doubts, fears and thick cloud of emptiness. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have said that."

"You should have more sympathy for him," she said angrily. "It hasn't been easy for him. I just feel so sorry for him."

Leaning against the wall Pip said, "Something tells me that he isn't fond of sympathy." A moment later Seras came out dressed in her typical tight-ass jeans with bleach spots, slip-on sandals and to Pip's mirth—a shirt from his collection, which of course was his favorite. Naturally because it was petite, it was two maybe three sizes too big, but Seras looked good in everything. The shirt was orange with a naked-chick fondling a guitar and smoke spelling out "String it Up." There was something so sexy about a girl, more importantly _his_ girl wearing his shirt in a public place. Yes, he was a lucky man. Romance never entered the picture when he was with other girls, because no other person captured his attention and fascination like the Police Girl, even if she was a vampire with a huge cannon that blew up ghouls into a pink mist. Certainly, the last few weeks their relationship intensified even with her virginal status. The Captain was in no hurry and since Seras Victoria now had eternity, neither was she.

"No sympathy. Especially from _your_ kind."

Seras shrugged her shoulders and said confidently, "I made the choice, and what's done is done. We all are not the same."

"So," Pip asked feeling that there was no need to further discuss it, "which one are you getting?"

"The pink one, of course," she said with a smile.

"Of course."

Walking towards the registers and screaming mob of waiting customers, Pip slipped his hand into the small of her back and gave her quick peak on the cheek. Normally, she would blushed rosy pink and pushed him away with that cute tiny smile playing on her lips—however, she just stood there with sad eyes, which were focused on something entirely other than him. "Baby, what's wrong?" The Frenchman paused and asked, "Did I do or say something wrong?"

"No."

Seras like the walking dead ambled over to a tower and plucked an item off, cradling it like a small, delicate animal in her hands. Cuddled inside her hands was a pair of white baby-booties embedded with an assortment of sports balls—baseball, basketball, tennis, football and soccer. In addition the sides were checkered with black and white blocks, and complete with navy shoe elastic straps instead of the 'big-kid' shoelaces._ Shoes for a boy_, he realized happily, _an ever-growing boy_. For a moment he picture a handsome young lad with a toothy grin.

Perhaps one day he would retire from this life of petty thievery and pirating, then settle down with a pretty nice wife, a couple of screaming bastards, maybe a dog and a peaceful house on a sandy coast—and Pip would live out his remaining days as a 'normal' man just living the every-day life. Then, quite reluctantly his thoughts turned to his granddaddy and what he said about nobody living in the Bernadette to see and furthermore enjoy the fruits of old age. The cruel but loving old man said, "Death is our retirement. Like Vikings, we die in battle and go to Valhalla. Don't plan on old age. Live each moment like it is your last, maybe you are sure hell not promised tomorrow."

Still, for a moment he pictured a handsome young boy giving him crude drawings complete with non-proportioned features and loud colors, playing catch with lead hands and sharing the otherwise insignificant events of the day—regardless, it was glorious and more rewarding than any bounty or job. _Sweet innocence_, Pip mused with a smile, but when his eye search her face, all the warmth and joy leeched out of his system leaving him with an emptiness and guilt.

Tears glistered at her eyes but Seras gingerly wiped them away.

Pip embraced her and said softly, "Love, it's all right."

She choked on a sob but cleared her voice and said, "Nothing. Just nothing. Keeping the future in mind for you-know-who."

"What…" he asked close to breathlessness.

_You have got to be kidding me_, he said as his thoughts turned to the woman that the Royal order had been pestered about "settling down" and raising a family, or more importantly producing an heir, as if she was a fine breeding mare. Maybe there was a more reasonable excuse for her reluctance against the errand to Japan. However, the more the idea twist in mind, the less it seemed likely. "Sir Integra?" Pip paused and asked cautiously making a make-believe round belly with his hands, "Sir Integra isn't—she is not, well you know?"

She laughed, which might have not been such a good thing. "Funny—but _no_. Much to the Royal Order's disappointment, she is not…"

Pip inquired suspiciously, "Than, why are looking?"

"Well…"never say never," Isn't that the saying? The Order is so persistent about an Heir, that maybe—and most likely Integra will have to…" she dropped her voice and added, "especially with Alucard around. She won't live forever, so eventually she'll have no choice."

"Hypercritically bastards," he cursed silently under his breath but knowing well, nothing would come from his open complaint, he wisely decided to change the subject. Pip fingering the little booties and replied sadly, "Do you…do you regret your choice?"

"Sometimes…" Seras paused and added, "but I think it is a bit too late to have regrets. I am what I am, _but_ still I think I would have made a great mum."

"You are great with children, you know." Pip of course, was referring to the London Orphanage House and the freaks having a buffet on the kids. Afterwards, they had to transfer the kids and keep them entertain until Paladin Anderson showed up to take them to Lukes Orphanage, which despite the Iscariot connection would be an excellent and healthy environment for them to grown in. The kids, however were reluctant to depart since they had taken an immense liking towards Seras Victoria, and surprisingly Lord Alucard—which was slightly disturbing and freaky.

"I know. I know—it—it's just—"

"We can always adopt." The Police Girl laughed heartily at the ill timing joke.

Pip lifted her chin and said, "You don't need to say it, love. I know."

"That you are jealous?"

"Of course," he purred thickly and rich with wanting. Smiling he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her, not before passing her a lascivious look. Their embrace was so close that northing came between them—save but a voice drenched with familiarly and dread, "What are ye doing sister? Stop that. Ye are acting like a wild bunch of children."

Silence followed.

Pip raised his head and stared into the crowd. Naturally, since he tall everything laid before his piercing glaze and at once seeing all too familiar face, his expression fell.

Recognizing that look she asked fearfully, "Tell me it isn't."

"Want me to lie?"

"It's Him, isn't it?" Of course, Him being none other than the Paladin of Iscariot, Alexander Anderson.

Truth be told, one can never prepare for the worse.

TBC

I hoped you enjoyed it. Lately my writing has been slowly down, as you can tell—but I doing my heart-most best, trying to keep up. I think, I have bitten off more than I can chew. Maybe, I should take smaller bites. Next chapter— Unexpected and Unwelcomed.

Ta,

Immortalis


	4. Unexpected and Unwelcomed

Hellsing

**Disclaimer**—Duh, of course I don't own Hellsing.

**Title**—Two-Faced

**Synopsis**—Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, Hellsing find themselves unwillingly paired with their adversary, Iscariot...and soon face-to-face with their personal Judas…

**Chapter Title**—Unexpected and Unwelcomed

**Chapter Synopsis**—At Hellsing, things can always get worse even as Master and Monster have a tête-à-tête…about betrayal.

**Author's Notes**—As you can imagine school is approaching like some topical storm, and naturally I am called to action. All I can say is, thank God for summer vacation. So in conclusion, I am trying as hard as I can to write and more importantly continue to write. However, I think recently I have bitten off more than I can chew. Such a shame really, because I have so many fan-fictional stories I want to write, update and post—but time slides away like sand in a hourglass. Never fear, as I said in my profile "If I post a story I must finish it," and so I will finish all my stories…

Anyways, I was happy to write this chapter than primarily focuses on my two characters of Hellsing—Sir Integra Hellsing and of course, Alucard.

Ta,

Immortalis

Unexpected and Unwelcomed

OOO

OOO

OOO Vengeance is Cold OOO

The pudgy short figure sitting in the solace of the shadows smiled, and even in the darkest black his pearly white teeth gleamed brightly. He clapped his white-gloves together like some overexcited child on Christmas morning, who was desperately and impatiently waiting to open the first present. Nevertheless, he was patience knowing that soon he would taste the fruits of his labors, and it would be bittersweet like heavily aged wine. The Mad-Major of Millennium sat comfortably in his chair with his golden almost amber eyes on the wall of TV screens before him. A steaming cup of hot cocoa sat next to him, with its contents half empty.

To his left, as always stood the silent and dead-eyed Captain.

Couched down beside him, Schrodinger was licking his paws and sleeking back the stray grays hairs spouting on his point and perky ears. The catboy smiled mischievously, as yet another sugar cube disappeared mysteriously from the silver-serving tray and found its way into the pouch in his cheek. He sucked gingerly on it and purred, kicking his leg as the Major snatched under his chin. "Such a good boy."

Suddenly came the shrill sound the telephone and he answered with a too cheerful, "Hello there…"

Schrodinger growled at the disruption, which was nothing out of the ordinary since he was an attention hog.

"Down Schrodinger…" a feminine voice warned playfully—it was none other than Rip Van Wrinkle, swinging her musket over her shoulder and swaying on one foot. Smiling, she lifted up her butcher-blue eyes, which were cold as ice except towards her comrade, friend and lover, the Captain. "All good things come to those who wait, isn't that right Captain?" Like always, he didn't response nor gave any inclination he registered what she said. However silence was a good enough answer and she ambled away, humming none other than Der Freischutz.

The Major interrupted, "By your orders, we are to have _minimum_ contact. This may not even be a secure line, and what then? Be cautious, you are stepping on thin ice, boyar." **O **

"I am fine," came the receiver, sharp and cold. "I want to know the process of the situation. Now. Updates are late."

Taking another sip from the teacup the madman chastised playfully, "Like a chessboard, the pieces are set and now, we play the game. Things are progressing smoothly, Sir. They shall come straight into the palm of your hand." Ending the sentence, the madman whose desire lied not in gold, but in chaos shattered the glass in his hand.

"Now…let the years of bitterness come crashing down like the wrath of God."

OOO Pride OOO

Looking out over the green garden that swathed Hellsing Manor in a tangle web of thorny hedges, Integra Hellsing sucked heavily on a Henri Wintermans cigar and the smoke rose form her lips and nostrils as heavy as the physical and political obstacles bestowed on her. Besides, the black suit and red ascot match her mood, which to say was very grim and murderous. Trying to calm the storm, her azure eyes dropped and studied the murky, beady contents in her teacup—and from there, Integra saw a reflection of herself, which was troubled, grim and angered by forces out of her control. She felt herself drowning within it, and plunging downwards into the endless abyss of betrayal, chaos and death. The imagery was too overwhelming and she looked away.

The taste of the tea, however lingered thick on her tongue and glistered brightly on her lower lip. The Thames River before entering London was—according to Mr. Rhoades, the very water Lu Yu's Ch'a Ching, the Book of Tea considered perfect for brewing green tea—oxygenated, mineral-laden water from a free-flowing underground limestone stream.

Taking another sip, her thoughts quickly turned towards the sleek, quiet and mysterious Rhoades. True, the Hellsing-Daughter did not trust him completely, but currently found him to be of more use alive than dead. Regardless of his loyalty, Rhoades made excellent tea.

Still, despite its taste and smoothing effects Integra growled bitterly under her breath, "Stupid sods," and then added, "Useless stupid sods."

Soon came that voice smooth as velvet, "A Englishwoman, like a priest should never curse."

Of course, there was nothing like a No-Life King ruining the moment with his redundant and hypocritical sermons about self-righteousness.

Opening her eyes, Integra saw Alucard standing before her with his hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming under the orange shades and an over-friendly smile playing on his lips.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Integra demanded hotly.

That only made his smile increase tenfold and he strolled closer with one hand on over his heart. "But how can I possibly sleep, my Master? Like Police-Girl, I am simply _elastic_ about our," he paused and added with each with dripping sarcasm, "little—modest—painless—most honorable, rendezvous to Japan. I am positively beaming with joy and anticipation, aren't you?" Approaching, he pulled out the spare chair and flipping it around, sat backwards with his elbows resting comfortably on the back. Alucard sighed comfortably and continued nonchalantly, "Besides a _vacation_ might do you some good. It might smooth out the wrinkles and make you much more expectable to certain company—"

"Stuff it," she warned angrily, rising from her chair and banging her fists on the table. "You are such a sadist."

Alucard dripped his head hack and laughed mechanically. "Ha! What a boring thing you can be, Integra."

"Know your place, pet," Integra rounded on him. "I am not entertainment during your boredom episodes."

While others would cower at the sight of her boiling anger, the vampire did not. He explained with deliberate sweetness, "Well Police-Girl is with her '_boyfriend_,'" he said tasting the modern term. "So circumstances have forced my hand to settle with second best."

"Second best?" she asked surprised. "Second best, am I?"

"It could be worse," Alucard said kindly, "you could be first."

Integra narrowed her eyes at him. "Your favoritism is sickening at best."

"Spare me that look, Integra." The No-Life King paused and replied sweetly, "Come and sit down. You may not be entertainment, but company nonetheless."

Cautiously with red demonic eyes watching her, she returned to the chair. "Good. Doesn't that feel much better? Besides, it is time to have a tête-à-tête about the change of events," he leered, "I feel incline to remind you that _pride_ is a sin, Integra and I believe you are among the Top Ten Most Wanted."

Hiding her eyes in her hands Integra moaned as if in pain. "Please don't tell me that you were watching cable with the Wild Geese again."

The Director of Hellsing, despite her disappointment could not tell Captain Bernadette and his men how to spend their paychecks, since that was their own personal interest. A majority of time it went to strip joints, porn shops, liquor stores and Besta Fasta, a Italian restaurant that had knew the Wild-Geese's orders by heart. One delivery ended in disaster. Now, they had gathered up their money and purchased cable—over 1000 channels, including the Naked-Channel, which Sir Integra had the terrible misfortunate of seeing. Worst of all, Alucard was with them. Better yet, now that Alucard had taken an interest in the tin-box known as the TV, he had gone as far as to demanded one in the subbasement and directly across from his chair. Of course, she refused.

So, now he was doing this out his bitterness on her.

"Is this another lecture, Alucard—because if so, there are better, and more important things to occupy my time with…"

"Stop, don't be such a sour puss."

"You _have_ been spending too much time with them"–-Alucard, a 500 year-old vampire taking up and further using modern terminology was evidence enough. "And if, as you said—an Englishwoman and a priest should not curse, than a Midian of your seasoning should not use modern lingo, wouldn't you agree?"

"Than rapping is completely out of the question then, Master?"

Integra blinked trying to dust aside the cobwebs in her ears. "Excuse me."

Smiling, he was only too eager to explain, "Bernadette is quite the musician."

"Sure," she said taking a sip of her tea. "If you like noise."

Alucard tried to coaxed her, "Honestly, it isn't all that bad."

The Hellsing Daughter rolled her eyes and voiced her complaint, "Please…ill tasted rhymes along with meaningless clatter does that constitute as music—just noise."

Knowing the extent of his Master's stubbornness, the No-Life King shrugged his shoulders passively with his eyes closed as if asleep and said, "Very well, we all have our differences, which of course makes each of us unique. His voice changed in pitch along with the topic, "Be lenient, my Master. We all have our charms and our passions. They inspire us…give us purpose that could only be divine   " he paused as if to imply that his was physically with him.

"Don't tell me that Captain Bernadette is constructing a record?"

"_Maybe_." But the smile on his face told her otherwise, instead it screamed a yes. "Of course, if he was it would most likely be about his current employment. However with the disclosure agreement in play, he cannot and most likely will never publish." Alucard paused allowing the information to weigh in. "I even have a part in the chorus."

Integra nearly choked on her tea. "You must be jesting.

A choppy sing soul voice rumbled out of his throat, "_I am a pissed-off vampire with revenge on my mind…I've a Jackal in my hand and a gleam in my eye_…**O**"

"Enough," she scoffed.

"Very well. Returning back to our original discussion…Integra," he said, like a parent trying to have a serious chat with his rebellious child. "Why did you do it? Why?" However, when coming to his Master, Alucard always turned from seriousness to sarcasm. The vampire continue with his voice deep and husky, "You do not submit—never surrender to the useless, redundant and desperate demands of others, so why the sudden change of position? Correct me if I am wrong, I thought you liked to be on top. Or perhaps, you wanted a change of view."

"Like Captain Bernadette and the rest of the Wild Geese, your thoughts always turn to the perverted," she said filled with disappointment.

"You are avoiding my question," he noted.

"And rightly so, seeing how I am in no position to obey you—especially _you_ of all individuals."

"Why?" he asked, almost pleading and begging for a reasonable explanation. "Indulge your pet with an answer…"

Integra exhaled a tiring sigh, and the air drained from her lungs as if it was her last breath. "Like you said," she answered carefully, "…_pride_."

As if he knew the response from the beginning, Alucard noted gleefully, "Of course, of course."

"I grow so weary from all this drama. Nothing can be simple." She hid her face in her hands and sighed. "Politics is a double-edged sword, and I," she paused taking in a deep breath to refill her vacant lungs and her voice was as weary as her eyes, "grow tired from its cuts."

"As I hear, it may be the instrument to your demise."

"_Iscariot_ says so," she said bitterly hissing the vile name.

"_And_ the Royal Order of Protestant Knights."

Rolling her eyes Integra scoffed, "As if their opinion has significance to me."

It grew uncomfortably after that comment, and Alucard smirked doubtfully with a row of white fangs glistering brightly. Looking to the side the No-Life King clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, apparently weighing the words that were about to slip from his lips. Finally he said, "You are denial. I thought _today_ would be evidence enough that their opinion _actually_ mattered, and better yet, served as a catalyst for your actions. Make no mistake Integra, they knew what exactly would get you to comply. They were counting on your _pride_."

Clearing her throat Integra fingered a loose strand and required, "Are you saying that I can be so easily manipulated?"

Alucard said plainly, "As with anyone."

Integra asked with a smile, "Including you, O No-Life King?" 

"Especially me."

Sometimes discussion such as these were healthy, because the vampire-pet was so brutally honest that it helped shinned light on the circumstances, which were otherwise shrouded in complete darkness—however, Alucard was not always honest with his own thoughts, especially the ones involving her. Some he boasted openly like the incompetence of her mortality and sometimes the weakness of her sex. The opinions he confessed were designed to needlessly test, mock and criticize her. It was entertainment for him. Nevertheless, a selective few opinions remained dormant in that dark and perverted thing called his mind. Funny, they were the ones she wanted and was afraid of knowing. Sadly, the Hellsing Seals forced him to comply physically, not mentally, so his thoughts, opinions and secrets could never be mandated by her command, and that in itself was something Alucard liked to dwell on. He would say, "_Poor mortal child. That must be frustrating, my Integra. While my body is subject to your will and whim, my mind is mine alone—however, I am willing to trade tick for tack_."

Again, his voice interrupted her thoughts, "Whatever are you thinking? What plagues your mind?"

"_Betrayal_…" she whispered as if confessing a desire to a lover.

There, she had finally said it.

The vampire rose to his feet in one smooth motion and with one hand sliding along the table, strolled closer. "Betrayal…" Alucard tasted the word as if he was maple a tender new Blood-Concubine. As if it had a mind of its own, his dark pink tongue flicked the air and swathed his lips in glistering saliva. "It is bittersweet."

"I know you have seen your fair share, Count."

Of course, she was referring to his younger brother and fledging Radu. **O**

"And now you can say the very same thing," he noted. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through her platinum hair—it being the only thing Integra gave him permission to touch. Of course, she was a silly thirteen year-old child when she said so. However going back on her word would be a sign of distress and weakness, which he would feed on like an addict. At his touch the Hellsing Daughter stiffened in her chair and glared at him with those piercing sapphire-stone eyes. His voice carried as much warmth as his skin, which is to say none. "Betrayal is inevitable in this game, you should know this—ever since with your uncle, Richard."

Integra hissed with venom, "_I want my Judas_."

Alucard nodded and asked as causally as a waitress taking a customer's order, "Interesting. How do you want him?"

She replied as earnest as she could, "Sprawling at my feet…disemboweled and hung by his entails. **O**"

The vampire, who was unfeeling to chaos, mayhem and murder, blinked at her comment and bluntly released the strand of platinum hair entrapped between his thumb and forefinger. Alucard walked away and spoke over his shoulder "Mmm, violent are we? But, " he added forcefully, "Before that, have you actually consider that we shall be halfway around the world and away from Headquarters—this would be perfect opportunity for Millennium to completely decimated us. Sit in the nest and wait for the host to return home." 

Instead Integra smiled, as if to I-know-something-you-don't-know. "I have already taken precautions against that notion, Alucard."

"Really?" he exclaimed.

"I am disappointed that you think I would not do everything _humanly_ impossible to ensure the existence and furthermore survival of the Hellsing Organization, the tribute of my great grandfather and your first Master, _Abraham Van Hellsing_," she said. "Do you doubt me so much?"

His smile disappeared at the mention of Abraham, and his eyes took on a menacing edge to them—but only for a moment. Alucard signed, reaching into his trench-coat and pulled out a Medical-blood bag, punched a straw into its weak plastic sheath and sucked gingerly on it. The powerful and lingering scent of stale blood filled the air. The vampire plopped into the comforts of an elaborate leather chair and crossed his legs, one over the other. "Perhaps…" then he added the other obvious threat, "Millennium could be enticing us to our doom."

Turning around to see him face-to-face, Integra raised a skeptical brow, placed her elbow in the table and placed her chin in her palm—her typical pose when confronting a verbal challenge. "Than I have _you_ as a insurance, Alucard."

Laughing like a demented spite, Alucard beamed with much pride and pleasure. "Very true. As Captain Bernadette says, 'I am your bitch," and pleased to serve my mistress—but," he paused, "whomever is the figure in mind for running operations awhile we are on vacation?"

"It is _not_ vacation. It is business," she corrected evenly. "And you get one drop of blood on that chair, I will kill you. Not shoot you but kill you." The vampire batted his eyes like an innocent child, who just got caught with his greedy little paws in the cookie jar. Mouthful of blood, Alucard displayed his hands still waiting for answer to his inquisitive and practically endless questions. So she indulged him with a quick firm reply, "Colonel Richard Sean Fitzwilliam." **O**

Swallowing Alucard beamed, "Ah…"

Colonel Richard Sean Fitzwilliam was an honorable, dedicated and handsome man with dirty blond locks with graying temples as result from recent and tragic event, warm chocolate eyes, finely shaped cheekbones bronzed from the sun, board forehead and thin tight lips. Innocently the Police-Girl once said that the Colonel seemed to have emerged from a boy-meet-girl romance novel and was simply too good to be true. The again, Seras was always a hopeless romantic, as evidence by the loads of novels hidden—rather obliviously—under her coffin mattress. It is said, "English lesson 101, you write what you know," however there are certain liberties when writing, such as imagination and the ability to exaggerate and gray certain truths. **O** Today, true romance and _not_ porn without decent plot, was far and rare in between. In conclusion, this perfect-man had his fair share of demons and like Rhoades was plagued by guilt and grief. After all, he was only surviving member of his garrison, which was butchered by the white demon, Incognito.

Hence they had a common enemy Integra had found herself an ally and some rumored, a lover—which of course, was a hideous lie. If such an accusation were even true, her vampire pet would smell his human stench on her skin, and besides the kiss on her gloved hand, there was none.

"Ah," he repeated with less joy. His thoughts might have been unspoken, but were clearly implied. "_Him_."

Now it was Integra's turn to openly express her mirth, "Isn't this a rare sigh—a No-Life King pouting like a child. That might be jealousy in your voice."

Alucard warned firmly as if she was chastising a bad child, "Don't mistake my disappointment with envy."

Integra explained her reasoning, "The Colonel will run operations while I am preoccupied, and in my absence, he is second best. Such a choice is appropriate, seeing how he is an experience candidate and I have," she paused almost as if the words were completely foreign to her, "and I have complete _trust_ in him."

"Be cautious, Integra. Your Judas is someone you trust."

"I know," she said. "I have more enemies than friends, and now I will take whatever or whomever I have."

OOO

TBC

Next chapter is called Personal Inferno.

Okay, stupid me forgot last chapter footnotes so here it is:

**O** "_God designed men to stow his seed where he may, however he programmed women to limit the crop to one farmer_." **O—**This is from Frank Barone in Everybody Loves Raymond. I heard this and realized I had to use this in a story, because it is so priceless, even if it is sexless and crude. We don't know a lot about Pip's granddaddy so I wanted to expand on his character and besides like Frank, this is something an "Old-fart" would say when talking about how things were back in his day.

Okay, now this chapter's footnotes:

**O **Radu **O—**As I have it, Radu was Alucard's younger brother and first fledging; however their relationship shattered when the No-Life King found out that he betrayed him to the Turks.

**O **_"I am a pissed-off vampire with revenge on my mind…I've a Jackal in my hand and a gleam in my eye…**O"**_—On YouTube, a brother and sister who dub over Hellsing videos, and generally make fun of thing—more specifically Hellsing related…have created a song called "Hellsing Paradise." It is a parody. The following lines are taken directly form that song, sung by Alucard himself. The brother and sister really do an excellent job to get the voices believable. Besides they are so funny, and lately I have been meaning to use some of their quote in Hellsing fanfictions, now I did. (For you Madn05. He he he!"

They called themselves "StupidUndRetarded." Check it out. 

**O **"Sprawling at my feet…disemboweled and hung by his entails" **O**—As I have said before, Integra needs to watch what she says to Alucard, because I promise you he _will_ take it every seriously. Mmm, it's a spoiler.

But the bigger question is "who is the Judas?" Bonus question!! I shall give you a hint—you have more than likely met him.

**O **"Colonel Richard Sean Fitzwilliam." **O—**He like Stephen Rhoades had a very short role in my other Hellsing fanfiction called Bloodlust, and I decided to use them again. Of course, the story is not centered on him. And no, there will no romance between him and Sir Integra. None. In fact he will have little part in it, partly because I want to focus more development on Rhoades, who has a much bigger part in The Dying Rose. Let's just say, there's more to him than meets the eye.

**O** It is said, "English lesson 101—Write what you know," however there are certain liberties when writing, such as imagination, the ability to exaggerate and gray certain truths. **O—**isn't this the truth of it? That is why we read and especially write fanfiction.  

I guess I will see you later.

Ta,

Immortalis


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